True Love: It's Forever
by AquaJasmine23
Summary: Rumplestiltskin certainly never expected to find a future with Belle when he dealt for her to be his caretaker. But then, he had never expected her to put the lust dust in their dinner either.
1. Lust Dust

**True Love: It's Forever**

**By: AquaJasmine23**

**Rating: M **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to OUAT as they belong to Disney and Adam Horowitz & Edward Kitsis… if I did there would be a lot more Rumbelle. **

**Summary: Rumplestiltskin certainly never expected to find a future with Belle when he dealt for her to be his caretaker. But then, he had never expected her to put the lust dust in their dinner either.**

**A/N: Rewrite of the first version, which I looked back on about a month ago and completely despised, so I ended up writing this.  
>Many thank yous to my wonderful friend and beta CharlotteAshmore who has been beyond awesome. I actually know how to manip now. Sort of. Anyways, this was written for the Cover Bunnies contest over on the FaceBook group I recently became an admin of; go to Emilie Brown's profile for more details.<strong>

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter One: Lust Dust**

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><p>Rumplestiltskin swore angrily as he watched the vial of dust turn a grainy white. <em>Ruined again<em>. This was the fourth time this had happened. It was supposed to be a light gold. There was nothing wrong with it, he had gotten all the ingredients. Ginseng, mandrake root, lilac stamens, crushed rose petals and lavender, the epimedium, a powdered form of the rare vanilla bean he'd had to bargain with Maleficent for, and that pesky griffin horn dust.

The griffin horn was to take the emotion away from the lust. The knight had bargained for a night with a pretty whore, not a love story, and he didn't intend to give a man like that more than he already didn't deserve.

The mixture sizzled like a doused fire. Beyond exasperated, he waved a hand, and it disappeared. The knight- he hadn't bothered to remember his name- had bargained for lust in a consumable form, and the brewing wasn't going so well.

The woman he had mentioned, maybe she was the key? It might work to take one of her personal items, he mused. A hair? A treasured item? What would make the haughty princess want the knight? What had he forgotten?

It was frustrating him to the point where he wanted to give up. Give up and teleport to the Great Hall where Belle was lounging on the sofa with a book. He really should be more strict on what she had to do- there was no point in having a caretaker who sat around reading all day- but it was so hard when she looked at him with those eyes. Large, long-lashed, deep pools of endless blue that he could happily drown in,, and worst of all completely innocent. She didn't know his true darkness, his evil nature. And the spinner inside of him wanted to keep it that way.

Well, now he would have to go get something from the object of the boisterous knight's desire. Huffing, he corked the glass vial, leaving the remainder of the powdered horn on his worktable and disappearing in a cloud of violet smoke, only to reappear in the Great Hall.

Where was his little caretaker? She usually read down here, on the red sofa, before she had to cook supper. Maybe she was in her room. He'd given her that not long after giving her the library, telling her that a maid couldn't clean properly if her back ached from sleeping on stone, and trying to convince himself that that was the real reason at the same time.

Or maybe she was in the library? Wherever she had gone off to, he didn't have time to poof all over the castle searching for her. He stalked into the kitchen and scanned it, double checking that the cupboards were stocked as usual.

It was probably safer to leave the uncompleted lust dust in the Dark Castle. He set the vial down beside the stove and then teleported to the princess's home.

* * *

><p>Noting the time on the mantel clock, Belle set down her book and began to make her way down to the kitchen to make dinner.<p>

It had become one of her few chores to cook for her master, occasionally to clean, and most often to serve him tea. Sometimes, after dinner, she read aloud to him from one of her books. She was almost certain he liked it; whenever she did, his eyes softened, becoming more human. It was… nice to watch.

The first thing she saw upon entering the kitchen was a beautiful little glass vial, corked and tinted a light blue, with strange golden speckles inside it. She smiled at the sight. Rarely, he would bring her a vial of spice from another land, from a deal he'd made, for her to use in their meals. It was amusing to him, she supposed, but to her it was sweet, a kind gesture, and she enjoyed it quite a lot.

After Belle finished up the braised lamb shank, she sprinkled the golden spice on top. It seemed to glow for a moment, like fairy dust was supposed to, but then it faded and she dismissed it as her imagination.

Dinner tasted odd that night to her. She had thought that she had at least gotten adequate at cooking for him. It left a strange feeling in her mouth- tingling, almost. Not bad, specifically, but electrifying, and she thought she felt the pulse of her heartbeat more acutely.

But there was nothing that could've caused it. Rumplestiltskin would never leave something for her to put in their supper that could potentially be harmful. She knew it. He tried to use the darkness to frighten her, but it had never really worked.

She thought he might consider her a friend, even.

Perhaps.

* * *

><p>He didn't know what Belle had done to their dinner. He was practically on fire, to the point where he had even tried to use magic to cool down, but it was pointless. There wasn't anything she had access to that could have caused this kind of heat. In fact, the heat seemed an awful lot like lust. <em>Damned leather<em>.

And lust could only have been caused by…

_No_. That was _impossible_. Not even his clumsy little maid could've managed to put the lust dust in their _dinner_.

She came back into the hall after clearing their dishes. "Is something wrong, Rumplestiltskin?" she asked gently.

He didn't really have an answer for that. His mind was a cacophony of _no_'s and _fucking impossible_'s. So he disappeared into the kitchen, hearing her sigh even from there.

The vial was gone from where he'd left it. That didn't necessarily mean she'd used it to make dinner, he struggled to reason, attempting to control the heat and failing miserably. It was like pleasurable poison, spreading through his body and making him ache with lust.

It wasn't something he could write off as a natural reaction, because it was like he was viewing the world through fog; everything blurry and indistinct. He staggered back into the Great Hall. _Apparently not quite everything_. Belle was the only thing that stood out in his vision, crystal clear in her soft blue-and-white dress.

That didn't really help his growing arousal either.

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><p>Rumplestiltskin was acting especially strange that night.<p>

Belle was used to him by now, to his moods and quirks and all, but this was strangeness on a whole new level. Right after dinner, when he'd stumbled back into the Great Hall (she'd never seen him stumble before, either) he'd looked at her like… almost like he _wanted_ her.

But that very notion was absolutely absurd. It was stupid to hope it might be true.

She blocked out thoughts of lust- and, dare she even think it, love- and started the trek up the stairs to the library, so she could retrieve her latest book. It had become something of a ritual for her to make tea for the both of them and then seat herself on the comfortable red sofa in the Great Hall and read, and on the occasion he would join her, either spinning or relaxed with closed eyes right beside her.

She cherished those moments when she saw the Dark One not crackling with the dark magic that seemed to leap and dance from his hands, at peace for the time. Sometimes, she would even read aloud to him.

Setting her book on the sofa, she went back into the kitchen to brew the tea. Her master was extremely picky about the amount of honey that went into his cup.

He was sitting at the wheel when she came out again, the slow turn relaxing her without her even realizing it. She had learned to recognize when he was trying to watch her without her noticing, and smiled as she sat down and opened her book.

* * *

><p>Over an hour later Rumplestiltskin had moved to sit beside her on the sofa. She was only half focused on <em>The Mysterious Island<em> by that point. It was like he had gravitated to her automatically, his eyes drawn completely to her and her book.

She turned her head and met his dark eyes. It seemed appropriate to start reading out loud, so she did, grinning widely. "'It is a great misfortune to be alone, my friends; and it must be believed that solitude can quickly destroy reason.'"

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><p>The breath hitched in Belle's chest as she felt him move closer to her. The words blurred on the page as her eyes became unfocused, heat unfurling in her belly. She knew he was watching her, his gaze unconsciously searing. She'd always been attracted to the raw untamable energy Rumplestiltskin emitted and now was no different; in fact, it seemed more powerful with the sudden close proximity. She reached forward, retrieving her glass of water from the low table before the sofa, hoping a cooling drink would somehow lower the blazing fire coursing through her veins. It didn't seem to help at all but she found she wanted- needed- to be closer to him, that only his touch would quench the thirst that plagued her.<p>

They were so close now that their thighs were practically touching, and she didn't know what was wrong with her. She wanted to embrace him, to wrap herself around him and kiss him- which, based on the fact that their lips were mere inches away from colliding, seemed fairly possible.

She hadn't even noticed, but she had turned her entire body to face him, the book lying practically forgotten in her lap.

Rumplestiltskin's eyes were dark and feral, his pupils blown wide with lust, but at the same time he looked rather like a trapped animal. The terror was clear on his face. Did he know what was happening to her? Was it affecting both of them? Belle certainly had no idea, and it was hard to care.

The book slipped out of her lap and fell to the floor. Neither of them noticed, their attention entirely fixed on the other.

Belle didn't know who moved first, but suddenly his lips crashed against hers like a tidal wave crashing against the land and wiping away everything in its path, her good sense being one of them. Had she been able to focus on anything other than the blazing heat of his lips, she would have realized he wasn't himself… no more than she. She was quick to wrap her arms around him, pulling him against her and willingly trapping herself beneath him.

Rumplestiltskin gasped, sounding tormented and pleasured at once. Gently, almost hesitantly, his tongue skimmed her bottom lip.

She let out a moan and her mouth opened under the pressure of his lips, his tongue eagerly delving inside her mouth and making her clutch at him, desperate for his touch. Belle had never really kissed anyone- not counting the obliged chaste butterfly kisses with Gaston, and those hardly counted- but she was trying to make up for her inexperience. From the sounds he was making, she could at least hope she was doing well. It was all moving along very quickly, but she couldn't find the will to care.

Hesitantly, she licked the roof of his mouth, and he jolted, his hips bucking against hers unexpectedly. It wasn't a bad feeling, just shocking, but she found she liked it. She was still cautious about all of it, but she wanted to go further. She wanted to rip away the layers still covering him and kiss him until the burning went away, because she felt like the fire was ready to consume her and there was no escape but to be consumed by him first.

Rumplestiltskin's lips left hers, and she almost whimpered in protest before his mouth was on her neck. Now she did whimper, not of deprivation but of a sort of lust that must be criminal. It had to be wrong to feel such deep all-consuming pleasure, but how could it be wrong when it felt so wonderful? She smiled, and slid down a tiny bit to place her hands on his chest, to feel the warmth that surged from him and to kiss his neck in return, rolling over so she was straddling him. She could feel his hardness pressed against her center, and she ground herself down against him.

When his hips bucked more insistently, she let her tongue dart out, caressing the side of his neck, which tasted rather salty. Musky, perhaps. Experimentally, she sucked on that particular spot, his pulse beating a rapid tattoo beneath her lips.

He flipped them over again, his lips landing back on her heated flesh, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat and his right hand coming up to cup her breast. She arched into him and somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear the faint voice of her nursemaid telling her it was wrong for a lady to act in a wanton manner. And she had to bite back a giggle because her actions could indeed be considered wanton. She wanted him with every fiber in her being, the heat, the pressure building in her lower belly that ached to be satisfied by the only man she could ever remember desiring in her young life.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

She stiffened, and then relaxed as she recognized Jefferson's voice. Far from a dangerous presence, the Hatter had been the one friend she'd made during her time in the Dark Castle. He was eccentric, and dressed exuberantly, but he was really quite a good man. One who certainly loved his daughter.

Grace was her name, and she'd visited the Dark Castle with her father on rare occasions. She was ten years old, very friendly, and extremely talkative. Belle loved being able to interact with her. She'd always been good with children, even back in her own village, and it was nice to know that she hadn't had to give that up entirely when she'd come to live with the dark sorcerer.

As much as she cared about Jefferson as a friend, she was terrified of what might happen now that they'd been interrupted. The raging lust- could she call it that, when it was so riddled with affection too? - hadn't gone away at all, the heat still residing and burning in her belly, but she didn't know if the same could be said for Rumplestiltskin.

His lips had left her neck, the man himself disappearing into violet smoke and reappearing perfectly presentable. Save for, Belle was grateful to see, a hickey on the left side of his neck. From _her_.

Her friend looked furious. It was hard to take him seriously when he was wearing that bright purple silk shirt- that and her emotions were completely and totally at peak level right then- but she had to.

"What were you doing to Belle?!" Jefferson demanded, outraged.

Rumplestiltskin seemed to have completely lost the ability to talk or look at anything aside from the book he was focusing so hard on. If only she'd known _The Mysterious Island_ would draw his attention so powerfully… it even reminded her of him. He was lonely, she thought. The Dark One, craving company. A strange thought, but given her experience, she thought she was entitled to think that.

Belle knew she would break if she saw any regret in his eyes, so she smiled a tremulous attempt at a smile and fled upstairs to the library. The library that had been a gift from the man she'd just kissed like their world was ending.

Oh, why had Jefferson appeared at that time? She thought of him as a wonderful friend, but his timing was so terribly, heartbreakingly inconvenient. The heat still raged on in her lower belly, stubbornly refusing to leave, and her lips felt the loss of his.

She was terrified to so much as think it, but her heart missed him too. It wasn't like he'd left- he was _downstairs_- but she knew now he'd go back to the Dark One who jumped whenever she so much as placed a hand on his arm, the one who found her disarming to the point where he'd never spend time with her again. There would be no more reading to him on the couch after meals. The thought made her eyes sting with repressed tears.

Without really knowing it, she'd been working so hard to bring down his defenses, because she knew she did care about him. It was simply undeniable at this point in time. And now all that was for nothing. She'd wanted to get to know him, the man behind the monster he pretended to be for the entire world- for more than one world, even- but this amazing night had positively blown up in her face. One moment she'd been enveloped in perfect bliss and happiness and emotions she couldn't face, let alone name. The next, it had all shattered apart.

And maybe she hadn't seen regret in his eyes, but she'd seen some sort of hint that he wouldn't be opening up again. Maybe he'd start to eat in the tower room, where he did his magical work. The thought alone hit her with a jolt of misery so horrible she had no choice but to collapse on the red sofa in the library, curling up in a ball.

_You can't cry_, she thought, wondering if she repeated it enough in her mind, she would start to believe it for real. _You can't. He hasn't said anything yet. You're overreacting. He can't see you like this._

Maybe she was being irrational, but as much as he would hate to hear it, Rumplestiltskin could be awfully predictable at times. She knew he'd been hurt at some point in his life, probably by a woman- his son's mother, likely- and he was consistently filled with nervous tension whenever he was around her, which was a lot. She unnerved him, and he unnerved her. But going back to the way it had once been, back when she'd still feared him and he'd still thought she was a haughty noble with no thought for anything but pretty dresses and dowries, sounded like a nightmare that came much too close to the realm of "possible".

She wondered what Jefferson was saying to him downstairs. From the sounds of that boom, she didn't think the conversation was going in a very friendly direction, but she wasn't about to go intervene. It would hurt too much. She had to face the inevitable alone, here, in her library, with nothing but the book that had brought them together in a way.

That was the thing, though. Lust was simple. Lust had easy solutions and could very well be emotionless. Something unnatural had caused the raging heat that had been the catalyst of this whole day, and she had to know what it was.

It hadn't brought out that much that hadn't been there before, however. She wasn't blind, she could see how darkly attractive he was, and if seeing his darkness as alluring made her an odd person, _she didn't care_. She'd been told her entire life that she was odd- crazy, even- and if being abnormal meant there was the slightest chance he might care about her too-

She had to stop the thought there, before that tear slipped from her eye, and then more would follow. She couldn't _cry_ for him. Crying meant she really, truly cared- and she did. But he wasn't ready to know it yet.

What Belle had felt when she was kissing Rumplestiltskin was beyond lust. Her heart had screamed in absolute ecstasy, her mind consumed with thoughts of him- not that it wasn't still- and she had wanted to drown in him.

If he didn't shut her out, maybe she'd get the chance to tell him that. If not… she'd have to learn to deal with grief.

* * *

><p>"Do you want to tell me why the hell you were molesting little Belle?" Jefferson said to him loudly, not even attempting to conceal his aggravation. Rumplestiltskin didn't blame the Hatter for thinking he was forcing Belle to kiss him. It was the obvious assumption, one he himself would've made if not for the fact that Belle had <em>kissed him back<em>. For a glorious moment, their tongues had been perfectly intertwined and their bodies had been pressed right up against each other and she had kissed him like she… like she cared about him.

Belle was a goddess in human form, a flawlessly breathtaking angel with a perfect heart. He was a _monster_. She could never care about him. The only logical explanation was the lust potion; somehow they'd both consumed it, and it was only logical her target would end up him, as he was the only other soul in the castle.

No, not the only other soul. She was the only real soul; his own soul was long dead.

She'd been the object of his desire for so long he could scarcely even remember when he'd realized it. It was probably when she'd fallen from the ladder, actually, right into his arms, the closest she'd ever been save for when she hugged him. And, of course, their encounter on the sofa from not ten minutes ago.

She was just so _beautiful_, and a wonder as well. Belle never ceased to shock him with her knowledge of the world, her comprehension far above and beyond his, and he'd walked the realm for over two centuries.

Like that one day, when he'd said something nasty about a certain royal princess, and she'd turned from sweeping the floors of the Great Hall and outright glared at him for the first time. Her words still echoed in his mind as Jefferson rambled about decency and common sense and rightfulness and other qualities he definitely didn't possess.

_"Stop talking like that." Her voice was so soft even as she frowned at him, and it dizzied him. "That princess you so despise? You're being terribly ignorant, you know. She might want to get new memories because her love died. Or perhaps she was assaulted. My point is, you don't know her! Everyone spends their lives idealizing royals, but no one thinks of them as human. They're seen as beings above- or below- normal emotions like love and grief like your everyday peasant, and it's not fair!"_

_He was so utterly, hopelessly captivated by her. She was even more spectacular when she spoke with such passion, and it was a marvel to behold._

_It was only when she said his name that he snapped out of his daze. "I apologize, dearie. Perhaps… a misjudgement on my part."_

_She smiled at him, a real, honest smile, and he felt a glimmer of hope from somewhere buried within his heart._

Admittedly, when she'd first come to the Dark Castle, he had assumed she would be at least a little snotty. He'd expected her to not be selfish because of the fact that she and she alone had dealt herself away to stay with him forever, and she'd more than lived up to his expectations. She was a gentle creature, with such open love for everything. She'd yelled at him once for throwing a book, and he'd thought it was absolutely precious.

"I know you're not listening and that you didn't hear anything I just said, Rumple," Jefferson said, sounding understandably annoyed.

Had the Hatter really been talking the entire time? If he had, it had been drowned out completely by Rumplestiltskin's self- tormenting thoughts of Belle. She had to hate him now.

For some reason the thought of her despising him drove a metaphorical thorn into his heart. Just a little stab was all it took sometimes, though.

"I didn't say anything, you're not going mad," his friend- the closest thing he had to a friend, anyway- assured him, the irritated tone not leaving. It probably wouldn't go anywhere for a while. "Well, not _completely_ mad, anyway."

"Not now, hatter," Rumplestiltskin said grimly.

"Why were you kissing her?!" Jefferson asked bluntly. Now, he knew that the hatter was friendly with Belle, and he suspected a rather brotherly protective edge was spurring this inquiry.

A thousand answers ran through his head. He could tell him the most basic truth- the lust potion, presumably, but he had to check again- or he could just say what he really _felt_ was the truth, which was that she didn't care about him, it was a thousand and ten percent magic influenced, it would never happen again (no matter how much he might want it to).

It wasn't all that difficult a decision. All his existence he'd been blaming himself for something. His father had made him feel guilty for even being alive, and from there it had gotten worse, with Milah and Cora and then with Bae.

"I believe that we both consumed a- lust potion of sorts," he said awkwardly, inwardly fighting the urge to look at the floor. But if he didn't look at the floor, he had to look at the hatter.

He really wasn't certain which would be worse.

"And why would you drink a lust potion?"

This was quite possibly the worst experience of his life. "Really it was more of a - dust - and Belle may or may not have… put it into our dinner?" The gods must have devised some plan to torment him for all eternity, or at least this conversation was leading him to believe that.

"Oh gods, Rumple," Jefferson groaned, slapping his forehead. "How could you be so stupid?"

Giving up on trying to find something to look at, he turned around and walked to his spinning wheel. Mechanically, he spun the wheel around, feeling absolutely emotionless. It _had_ to be the lust dust. There was no other explanation. It wasn't like Belle- Belle in her right mind- could ever want _him_.

"Go away," he snapped.

The hatter sighed exasperatedly. "This conversation is not over. I'm going to talk to Belle," he informed Rumplestiltskin, a stubborn scowl plastered on his usually humoured face.

_Shit_. There was no way this could end well. While his hands forced the wheel to spin on, his mind was wondering what she would tell Jefferson and, against his own will, wondering if she might really care about him.

But she couldn't, because he had vowed to never love anyone ever again after he'd lost his son, and -

He could never love her. If he loved her, it would be like imprisoning her in a cage, binding him to her forever, and if he ever had the strength to do the right thing and let her go- well, something like that would be equivalent to a death sentence for her.

Seeing it that way… it was a good thing no one, especially someone as free from the darkness as Belle, could ever truly love the Dark One.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Again, big thanks to CharlotteAshmore. I'm really excited to write this now. Please review and tell me what you thought! **

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. What Comes After

CHAPTER TWO: WHAT COMES AFTER

Rumpelstiltskin hadn't _meant_ to enter her room at all. The reason he'd given Belle her own chambers away from the cold dungeon was mainly so she would have a space that he would never intrude upon. The library didn't count; he was in there every other hour fetching some magical tome or other.

And yet here he was, standing at the foot of her bed like a prince in one of her romance novels. And frankly, he was the furthest creature from a prince she could ever know.

She was asleep on the bed, covered in blankets with a pained expression on her face. Was she having a nightmare? He couldn't help the base urge to comfort her, although it was nothing to want to. Anyone would.

Hours ago, when she had fled the Great Hall, his instinctive thought was that she had woken up from whatever daze the lust potion had trapped her in and had been- reasonably- disgusted. After all, she had just been kissing the Dark One, and in a manner that would've had many back in her home thinking she was ruined.

Jefferson, to his knowledge, had left, vowing to return the next day to talk to Belle himself, a thought that made him shudder. After watching the clock go on for hours and spinning straw into nothingness, he had lost any willpower he might've possessed before, and now he was here.

She looked like an angel, her hair splayed across the white pillow in long silky chestnut curls, her face as pale and ghostly as moonlight, shadows dancing across the surface, shining through the open window. He couldn't resist extending an arm and brushing the back of his hand against her soft cheek, and eventually cradling it.

Belle leaned into his hand. There was that terrible moment of contemplation when he wasn't sure whether he would be able to pull away or not, but he managed to. This proved it. Monsters stole away the goodness in the people they supposedly cared for and extinguished it.

But he couldn't do that to Belle. She meant far too much to him; he was in too deep to pretend that she didn't. He couldn't even recall when she had started to mean _anything_ to him… but it didn't matter.

He still didn't want to talk to her, not only because of his instinctive cowardliness but because he was still holding the tiny spark of hope in his black heart that she might really care about him, and that was why she'd kissed him back with such passion. But he was also still convinced that the dust had caused it all- on her part, anyway- and if he told her about it, she would hate him with all her heart for inadvertently causing her to kiss a monster. He was terrified of the risk, and that was the spinner still buried under all the darkness.

He wouldn't be able to bear seeing hatred written so blatantly on her lovely features, knowing it would break him to the core of his soul. It was enough to worry about the Hatter speaking with Belle about it- what if Jefferson told her? He hadn't felt this nervous since he was human. Hell, he hadn't cared about anyone's opinion of him since he had lost Bae.

"I'm _sorry_," he whispered to her from the shadows that were his existence, knowing that it wasn't enough and never would be. Her hatred, when it inevitably appeared, would be his own fault. The kiss had torn away the walls protecting his blackened heart from himself, and it couldn't be more obvious than it was now. She had invaded his mind and marked her place in his soul.

She would never love him. She had vowed to stay with him forever, sacrificed her life and the love she'd surely have found elsewhere in order to save her town. She would honour her promise… which was why he had to leave her, since she'd never choose to leave him because of it. He had to find a way to bring her back to her home, and leave her there permanently.

And knowing she'd never go willingly…

The only spell he could think of was one to cut away their time together at the Dark Castle and make it nothingness in her mind...a mere dream. The time would remain the same- time travel was, like realm jumping, just outside his range of abilities, and he wasn't stupid enough to attempt it anyway- but she would never have known him. He would save her kingdom, in her mind's version of events, without asking for a price, and let the magic take its toll upon him… and she would forget that she ever knew him. He would have to alter the memories of everyone in Avonlea for it to work, but if it saved Belle, it would be worth it.

The thought of her not remembering their kiss nearly made him crumble, and as it was his knees gave in. Rumpelstiltskin sank to the floor like a child, trying to convince himself it would be the right choice in the end. For Belle. Always for Belle.

He could retain his memories of her, remember caring about her, recall their past as it truly was, but it would be _was_. Used to be. Not anymore. _Gone_. He wouldn't feel the grief that attacked him now, nor sorrow and loss.

It should've made it easier, but it didn't. Rumpelstiltskin had always depended on sorrow to keep him going. If he wasn't dealing with grief, he had no way to push for something better. He supposed until he found Bae there would always be regret and loss in his life, but his son wouldn't make up for Belle, just like Belle wouldn't have been a consolation prize for Bae if they had ever… _No. _

He was uncertain if he could deal with the detachment that he'd feel remembering Belle, if he went through with this. It would be like watching someone else fall in love- his own heart wouldn't be affected-

This couldn't be love. He wouldn't allow it to be. He tried to force the thought back into the deepest, darkest parts of his mind, knowing that if he loved her he'd never be able to let her go.

Belle would have no knowledge of him. She would never meet the monster he was or the cowardly spinner he had once been. There was no man in between. He… wouldn't exist to her. And if by some unlikely chance she ever heard of him, she would think of him as what he was: the monster that mothers told their children horror stories about to keep them in line.

It was what was best for _her_. He whispered an apology, soft as the gentle wind blowing through the open window, and left to begin working on the spell. She had to forget him before he fell in love with her and it became too late.

It was the only way.

Hours. It had taken Belle _hours_ to fall asleep, and she still wasn't sure whether the ache in her heart or the ache between her thighs had kept her up. Maybe both.

She had dreamt that Rumpelstiltskin had come to her room in the middle of the night. He'd apologized and kissed her again, and told her that he _loved_ her. Waking up had certainly been one of the most heartbreaking moments of her life.

She had dreamt that he had made love to her then and there on that very bed, and then afterward held her tight and promised to never let her go.

The most painful part? Dreaming that he loved her. It had forced her to realize that she cared very deeply about him. Too deeply, really, because it wasn't like this dream could transcend into reality. And that _hurt_, so sharply it was difficult to breathe, when she thought of it.

Every time she thought about it, she choked up- the dream was everything she wanted him to say- and do- and it left a hollow feeling in her chest where her heart resided. It was either the hollowness or the crushing sadness… she almost preferred the heartbreak. At least it was proof that she was enduring grief bravely- and proof that she cared. She needed that proof.

Belle didn't know what to do. She wanted so badly to be brave, but she also wanted to curl up under the mountain of duvets on her bed and sleep for another eternity. Maybe after that she'd be ready to face her Dark One.

She wasn't sure why she'd woken up, but, in a way, she was glad she had. She needed to face him soon and really, truly accept that her feelings were unrequited. As much as it might hurt to see him and know that less than ten hours ago his body had been pressed against hers more intimately than anyone else's had in her entire life… it would hurt more if she continued to delude herself.

But she supposed she could indulge until she had to face him.

"_Belle," he whispered, his lips barely leaving hers. "I'm sorry."_

_He kissed her, each battling for dominance until he won, his tongue grazing her lower lip and begging for entry, making her shudder as she granted it. Her own tongue stroked the roof of his mouth more boldly now, and he grinded his hips against hers with increasing fervour. _

_When she gasped for breath, he moved to kiss her neck, sucking at her alabaster flesh enough to leave a mark that she would cherish, his tongue laving over the skin to soothe it. _

"_Why did you shut me out?" she murmured, barely coherent and weak in the knees as he pressed her into the bed._

"_I was afraid," he admitted softly. "And I thought if I pretended I didn't love you for long enough, I might wake up one day and find it to be true," he admitted, dark eyes glowing with regret. "But I realized that day would never- and will never- come."_

"_Y- You love me?" she asked, not daring to hope and be broken again so soon. _

_His hands came up to cradle her face, his lips meeting hers in a delicate kiss. "Belle." He sounded like he was choking. "Oh, Belle, how could I not? You are the only light I have left in this darkness. I've never been- never been able to let go like I do with you, love. I've been in love with you longer than I can remember."_

_She felt tears slip down her cheeks, tasted the salt of them and smiled. He did love her._

"_I love you, Rumpel," she confessed, however obvious it already was. "I've always loved you."_

_They crashed together again, and the layers disappeared, both figuratively and literally. And as they kissed and the fire was at last sated, she promised herself that she wouldn't let him go this time. Never again._

"You still asleep, Belle?" Jefferson asked loudly.

She sat up suddenly, the realization that she'd dreamed Rumpelstiltskin's admission of love was both shocking and terrifying. More tears joined the existing ones on her cheeks- she must have cried in her sleep, then- and she shivered as she struggled not to sob.

"What's wrong, love?" the Hatter inquired, worried at her sudden display of emotion.

_I've never been able to let go like I do with you, love. _

She suddenly felt terribly weak. "Just- just go," she begged, clutching her knees to her chest as if putting something in front of her heart might protect it from breaking. "Just go."

Looking deeply concerned, Jefferson left the room, worry and something else in his eyes.

Her tears had stopped, and she thought of it as having reached a point of so much pain and sadness that crying would be, simply put, pointless, and therefore she _couldn't_ cry- couldn't do anything but let her anguish expand in her heart and numb her mind.

_I was afraid. And I thought if I pretended I didn't love you for long enough, I might wake up one day and find it to be true. _

She could feel her face crumble, and shot up to slam the window closed and pull the curtains, feeling as though anything but darkness would give her too much hope...again. She needed to realize that what she truly desired- Rumpelstiltskin, _her Rumpel_- was, as it so often happens, the one thing she could never have.

What had his friends done to each other? wondered Jefferson as he went down the corridor leading to the Great Hall from the stairs. Or more accurately, what had Rumpel done to Belle? She had an infectiously happy presence about her and to not see it was saddening. If he could see so plainly that she was in love with him- and vice versa, Dark One or not- why were they incapable of doing the same? Or was he doomed to watch them both suffer for eternity? He needed to bring Grace to see her, see if she couldn't cheer the both of them up.

Belle had been dreaming of her sorcerer, he knew. She'd called out his name in her sleep- _Rumpel_, not Rumpelstiltskin, and when had that started? - and Jefferson was curious to find out if Rumpel had heard and ignored her.

He wouldn't- couldn't- tell his friend this, but Belle had also whispered something else while in the throes of the dream world.

_Why did you shut me out?_

_I love you, Rumpel._

_Don't leave me!_

_I won't let you go._

Jefferson groaned. One kiss, and everything had changed.

The Hatter had quickly given up on trying to persuade Rumpelstiltskin to come out of his workroom, knowing it was impossible if he didn't want to, and he now began the long trek up the stairs to Belle's room. The Great Hall was half-ripped apart, straw strewn everywhere, one of the glass cabinets shattered. He planned to bring his friend out to the gardens so they could chat.

But when he walked in, he was greeted with a sight much different than the one he'd left- only mere minutes ago, really. Belle sat on the edge of the bed closest to the still-open window scribbling in a journal as though she'd die if she stopped.

She didn't look up, her hand still moving even as he shut the door loudly and walked over to sit beside her. He glimpsed the words _You should know that I _and _more than just a _on the tear-stained paper before she slammed the journal shut, scowling slightly as she laid the quill on her night table and sealed the ink bottle. Contradicting the obvious droplets that had landed on the paper, her eyes were dry and clear, showing no evidence of the sobs he had heard himself so recently. There was only a tiny flicker of desolation that was proof of her unhappiness.

"Jefferson," said Belle, polite but frigid.

He made his decision. "I went home last night to Grace," he said in response, his mind working frantically. "She asked me if there was something wrong with me." Although this was true, he was manipulating her now. But if it pulled her out of the pits of despair she'd seemed to have fallen into… it would be worth it.

She looked slightly concerned. _Good_, he thought. If it was something other than emptiness and desperation, he'd take it. "Is something wrong?" she asked, likely thinking of something mundane.

He went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I told her the truth- I wasn't ok. There was something wrong, not with me, but because of me. Because of something I had caused. I told my Grace the truth: I'd made a mistake, and hurt both you and Rumpelstiltskin as a result. And I was worried about you.

"Sweet child that she is, she wanted to know what happened, what I'd done. I couldn't tell her anything but the truth- you and Rumpel were discovering something between the two of you, and I interrupted before he could truly realize the extent of his feelings. I think you recognized some of them, though, and I must've shocked you into running upstairs… which led him to believe that you regretted the kiss."

Belle, who had been astonishingly silent up until then, looked like she was witnessing the execution of her family. Her expression fell, and he could almost see her heart splintering and cracking in her chest. He scrambled to fix what he'd said.

"I don't mean to say it's your fault, love. I imagine I scared you too." He now wondered if he'd screwed up by talking about Rumpel realizing his 'true feelings'- feelings he wasn't sure existed (although he was somewhat convinced). However, if Rumpelstiltskin ever found out, he'd surely be transformed into something slimy.

"No- no," Belle all but whimpered, cerulean eyes glistening with fresh tears. "I- I made him think that I _regretted _it- I didn't mean to- he'll think I don't want him…" she trailed off, practically choking on a sob, her tone appalled at herself.

Jefferson flinched. "Please, Belle, don't do this to yourself." She was almost like a sister to him, and he couldn't bear seeing her endure so much sadness. "It wasn't your fault."

Already she was slipping into the haze of grief he'd witnessed her suffering when he had inadvertently woken her. She seemed to be forcing back the tears that had yet to leave her eyes. "I have to show him the truth," she whispered, tearing the page she'd been writing on out of her journal. He now recognized it as a letter, yet to be completed, addressed to the imp. "Thank you," she said before dashing out the door and upstairs to the tower room.

He swore, leaping up and running after her, but she was already out of sight. Yes, Rumpelstiltskin was indeed in the tower room, but he'd locked the door with magic, and inevitably would be too much of a stubborn ass to let her in or even speak to her, which she'd think was him rejecting her. She wouldn't be able to get in- or rather, he wouldn't _let _her in- and that would only serve to hurt her more.

The knock on the door of the tower room was like ice in Rumpelstiltskin's blood. He could hear the distinct rhythm of Belle's beating heart, and more to the point her dainty knocks, as opposed to Jefferson's careless hammering against a door until he was let in. He supposed he'd never considered the possibility that the hatter would tell Belle about his talk with Grace (which he'd, of course, watched...through a crystal ball, not a mirror, obviously.)

But apparently Jefferson _had_, and now she was talking through the door, and oh this was _bad. _"Hello? Rumpelstiltskin, please, let me in, I can explain what happened," he heard her say.

He flinched at the sound of her voice, so clear even through the magic barrier. The obvious regret in her tone seemed to echo endlessly in his mind, causing his hand- the one holding the glowing purple vial of the unfinished memory spell- to shake violently. He set down the vial and closed his eyes, trying to block out her words, his jaw clenched so tightly that it hurt. Dimly, he could hear her apologizing, saying he didn't understand, and that it wasn't what he thought; she could explain why she ran off after Jefferson interrupted them.

Rumpelstiltskin was close to flinging open the door and shouting that he didn't give a damn about her and he'd only wanted a willing wench, not a maid with adventure in her heart and stories in her mind, but that was too cruel even for him. Some part of him- a part that belonged to the darkness- hated her for bringing down the walls he'd had up since he'd lost Bae, but another part (that was perhaps even darker) relished the thought of her knowing him for real.

He had never known anyone who'd seen him for everything he was and still loved him, still stayed by his side. It was almost what he wished Belle was. However, the defiantly logical side of him knew she could never love him, and to imagine her if she did- to give into the broken hope that still existed in his heart- seemed like the epitome of idealization. He couldn't take away her personality- even in his thoughts- just so he could imagine her as his.

Because a Belle who loved him- hence, not truly _Belle _- would be a Belle he wouldn't be able to stop himself from loving, regardless of all consequences. If he'd already fallen off the cliff, the real Belle was an ocean he could keep from drowning in, and the false Belle-who-loved-him was an abyss, and falling once would be it.

Rumpelstiltskin could still feel himself shaking, even as he heard, through the clamor in his head, Jefferson approach Belle and lead her away from the tower room. The tower room that also served as her library, and currently as his workroom. He needed to find out how to complete the spell- which, according to a book he'd found on memory magic, was known as the curse of lost hearts- so he could erase all of this from Belle's mind before either of them did anything they'd come to regret.

That was all he was allowed to think of. The curse. He had the ingredients for the potion, but having her drink it would destroy her, reduce her to a child. He needed another way.

And he thought of it when it was almost midnight, after the Hatter had left, and after Belle had gone to bed, leaving tea outside his door. He didn't deserve it at all, and couldn't understand why she'd done it. But at least now he knew what had to be done.  
>He just wasn't certain how he'd be able to obtain this… <em>object<em> without being incinerated.

**A/N: I can't even express how sorry I am for not having this out sooner. I can only promise to try and update biweekly. Since it's winter break- thank god- I hope to be able to pull out another chapter before I go back to school. Hope you all enjoy, and please let me know what you thought about the chapter.**

**Huge thanks to CharlotteAshmore, my faithful beta, who was so overridden with feels (I know not why, tbh) that her main response to this was *SOB*. 3 luv ya.**


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